Before I Woke
by Jalice Love since1948
Summary: Mary Alice is an average girl living in a average town except for the fact that she has vision of the future. How does this effect her and her family? What will they do to cope? This is from before Alice was admitted to the asylum up until the time she was changed. It's rated T for now but it may change due to language. This is my 1st fanfic & I would greatly appreciate feed back
1. Chapter 1 Birthday

**Author's Notes : This is my first fanatic so please be nice. Though I would like some constructive criticism, I would not like any that is too harsh. I apologize in advance for spelling or grammar mistakes but you don't have to worry about that now because I have a beautiful and talented beta.**

**- The first chapters are kinda boring, but it gets better. **

**1 Birthday**

_**February 23, 1918**_

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**Today is Cynthia's eighth birthday. I can't believe how old she's getting. It feels as if it was only yesterday Mama and Papa brought her home from the hospital. Speaking of Papa, he isn't here. He never is. He's always out selling jewelry to some Yankee up north. But today he should be here. We all miss him terribly, especially Cynthia. And on top of that he promised he would be here. Not that he ever keeps his promises. I guess it doesn't matter; we can still have a good time without him.**_

"Mary Alice!" Mama calls. I put down my diary and go down stairs to see what she wants.

"Yes Mama?" She's icing a large cake for Cynthia's birthday this afternoon. She smiles at me kindly, her light blue eyes sparkling lightly.

"Will you go down to the schoolhouse and pick up your sister for me, please?"

I frown. I hate doing that. Everyone in town calls me a witch. Just because I have vision of the future doesn't mean I'm a witch, right? I can't even control them, but no one cares about that. The only thing they care about is that I've killed two people by putting some evil curse on them. But they have it all wrong. I had a vision of those awful things that happened to them. I tried to warn them, but they didn't believe me and told me I was crazy. Now, my best friend, Jane, and my Cousin Vinnie are dead and everyone thinks it's my fault and they call me a witch or changeling and a also say other awful things that I'd rather not say.

Things have gotten better though, now that I've graduated from school. I didn't have to go out as much, but now I do. I mean, what could I say to change Mother's mind? "No, I don't want to go! You go do it yourself!" She is my mother after all.

I try to smile, "Okay, let me just get my coat." I head back upstairs to my room, go into my large closet, and grab my favorite winter coat. I head back down the staircase leading into the kitchen. I watch my mother as she makes an elegant rose to go on top of Cynthia's birthday cake.

I sigh. She looks down at me, seeing my worried expression. "Everything will be okay, Mary." She pushes my long, black hair out of my face, looking into my light blue eyes. "I love you," she says kissing me on top of my head. "Be safe, my little one."

I smile and head toward the front door. "I love you too, Mama," I say as I shut the door behind me. I step into the cold February air; it is very cold considering it is this late in February. I pull up my hood, protecting my ears from the harsh winter winds.

I want to stay away from people as much as possible, so I decide to walk through the woods. I love the woods. It's so beautiful, especially in the winter, with snow on the ground and icicles hanging from the branches. I often find myself here, reading, drawing, just when I want to get away, or now, when it's my shelter, protecting me from the cruelties of the outside world.

I get as close to the schoolhouse as I possibly can; as far as the woods can take me. But now I have to go into town. I try to stay in the shadows so I don't draw attention to myself; which works for the most part.

I'm less than a mile away from the schoolhouse when a tall man wearing a dark, brown coat and a fedora calls me from across the street. "Hey, what are you doing out here?!" he says angrily. I try to ignore him and walk off in the opposite direction. He begins to cross the street to meet me. "Don't you walk away from me!" He yells, drawing the attention of the town's people. I begin to run and he runs after me, but I am fast and he isn't able to keep up. "Yeah, run away! No one wants you here!" He screams, now far behind me.

I try to keep myself from crying as I continue to run, trying to get as far away as possible from this awful place. I keep looking straight ahead as the man continues to yell insults at me. Tears fill my eyes, making my vision blurry.

I finally make it to the schoolhouse, feeling heavy hearted. School was already out by the time I got there. Cynthia is on the swings . I watch her, but don't go over to greet her. I didn't want to cause a relapse of what happened earlier this afternoon, there are parents picking up their children and I don't want to draw attention to myself. I lean on a nearby tree - far enough away, where I won't be noticed- waiting for the parents to leave.

* * *

Eventually the schoolyard empties, leaving Cynthia alone. She sits on the bench in front of the schoolhouse. The teacher, Miss Green, sits next to her with a worried expression.

Now it's safe to go. There is no one here to judge me, except for Miss Greene, but she's a kind woman that would never do something like that. I've known her since I was a young child in her class.

I come out from my hiding spot and walk towards them. Miss Greene sees me and smiles, "See, Cynthia? They didn't forget you. Here comes, Mary Alice now."

"Ali!" she exclaims running over to me, embracing me tightly.

"Hi, Cynthia. Happy birthday," I say, hugging her back.

"Hello, Mary. I haven't seen you in a while.

I smile slightly, "I don't go out much anymore."

"It's nice to see you again. It's been over two years."

"I'll try to visit more," I promise, knowing it is a lie.

"Are we going to have a party, Ali?" Cynthia asks eagerly.

"Yes, we're going to have a big party just for you, Cynthia."

"Yeah!" She exclaims, jumping up and down "Come on lets go now!" she says, pulling me off in the opposite direction.

Miss Greene chuckles. "Bye, Girls!"

We walk back home through the woods so no one would notice us. Cynthia chatters happily about her birthday party this afternoon. She is such a little ball of energy and happiness, I was the same way when I was her age. God bless Mama having to take care of two high-energized little girls practically all by herself. I wonder how she managed to do it without killing herself.

We finally make it back to the house. Cynthia runs inside, hugging Mama around the waste. "Mama!" she yells.

"Hi Cynthia. How was your day?" Mama says, embracing her tightly.

I watch them as Cynthia chatters to Mama about her day and how the other children sang happy birthday to her.

I sit on the sofa in the living room, thinking about what happen earlier, before I picked Cynthia up from school. I hate how people treat me. It's not fair, and they don't even know me! They just assume I'm an awful person. But at least Cynthia is happy. I would do anything to make her happy; she means so much to me. I don't know what I would do if something happened to her. Hopefully she won't have to go through this awful visions curse.

"Mary Alice, are you alright?" My mother asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

I look up at her, seeing her worried expression. "I'm fine," I lied swiftly. "Where's Cynthia?"

"She went upstairs to change for her party," she says sitting next to me on the sofa. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem upset."

I don't answer. I didn't need to. She already knew the answer. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Mary Alice. I should have never sent you to do that. I should have gone myself," she said, sounding remorseful.

"It's not your fault, Mama, you were busy," I say, trying to comfort her. She smiles warily at me.

"Mama! Ali!" Cynthia yells as she bounds down the large staircases. "Look at my dress! Isn't it just the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?!" She exclaims as she spins around.

It is a light purple, ankle-length dress with a lavender satin bow around the waist. "You look beautiful," I told her.

"Of course I do."

"Very modest, Cynthia," Mama says with mock disapproval. "Are you ready for your party, birthday girl?"

" yeah, " she said with a large grin playing across her face. But then she looks at me and frowns. "Alice!" she complains.

"What?" I ask.

"You can't wear that to my party!"

"Why not? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"It's fine on any other day, but today is my birthday and you have to wear something extravagant."

"And what you're wearing is _soo_ extravagant," I say teasingly.

"Yes, it is. And you have to change right now," she says, pushing me up the stairs.

"Okay, okay! I'm going, Pushy," I say as I walk up the stairs.

I change into a dress similar to Cynthia's, except mine is blue with a green satin bow. After changing, I head downstairs. It is almost three o'clock. The guests will be here soon.

I go outside to our large backyard to find Cynthia swinging on the old tire swing, hung under the large weeping willow, now leafless due to the harsh winter. Papa had hung it for me when I was young.

I wrap my shawl tightly around my shoulders as I walk over to her. I lean against the large trunk of the weeping willow, watching her as she swings gently back and forth.

We are quiet for a while, sensing each other presents. "When are my friends supposed to be coming, Ali?" She asks.

"Around three," I say as I glance at my wristwatch. It was a quarter after. "They should be here soon."

"I'm going to go inside now." She hops down from the tire swing and goes inside the house. I follow after her.

* * *

Time passes slowly as we wait for Cynthia's friends to come. It's almost six thirty and no one has shown up yet. I have good idea why.

"Mama, why haven't my friends arrived yet?" she asks with tears welling up in her eyes. "Do they not like me?"

"No, of course not, Cynthia," My mother says, embracing her tightly.

"Then why didn't they come, Mama?" She sobs.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know," she says, stroking her light brown hair tenderly; Cynthia crying into her shoulder.

I know that Mama knows why none of her friends showed up. It was because of me. Their parents didn't want their children going over to the _**"witch" **_girl's house because she would put an evil curse on them. The thought of this made me sick. I hate it when Cynthia is upset, and me being the cause of it makes it even worse.

"Just because your friends didn't come, doesn't mean we can't still have a party," Mama says, trying to comfort her. "We can still open your presents and have your birthday cake. Would you like that?"

Cynthia nods and wipes her tears. Mama picks her up and takes her into the family room- where the party was suppose to be held- and sets her in Papa's large leather recliner. Cynthia opens her presents one by one, trying to keep herself from crying. We sang her happy birthday and she blew out her candles and made a wish. "I wish Papa and my friends were here," she says, tears running down the side of her face.

Mama cuts three pieces of cake for us. Mama and Cynthia begin to eat. While they eat, I just stare at my plate, pushing the crumbs of the cake around with my fork.

"Aren't you hungry?" Mama asks.

"No," I whisper "I actually don't feel well. May I be excused?"

"You may," She says eyeing me with a worried look.

I stood to go to my room as Cynthia comes around the dining room table and hugs me gently around my waist. "Feel better, Ali," she says in a hushed whisper. This just made me feel worse. She's worried about me when I'm the one who ruined everything for her. "I love you, Ali."

"I love you too, Cynthia," I say, forcing a smile. "I'll see you in the morning." I kiss her on the top of her head and go up stairs.

I go into my room, change into my nightgown, and lay down on my bed, feeling awful. I didn't even bother trying to get under the covers. I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. So I just lay here with the lights on, that is, until I hear a light knock on the door.

"May I come in?" My mother whispers.

I sit up. "Sure," I say in such a quiet whisper, that I wasn't sure she heard me. But she opens the door, comes in, and sits next to me on my bed, scrutinizing my expression.

"Have you been crying?" She pushes my hair out of my face so she can get a better look at me. "What's wrong, Baby? You could tell me, you know. You can tell me anything."

I look you at her with tear-brimmed eyes, but can't say it, it would only make it more real if I did. "Alice, please tell me. I hate seeing you upset," she begs. But I don't answer, I just start sobbing. Why are they worrying about me when I'm the cause of all the pain and suffering? She wraps her arms around me and tries to comfort me with hushed whispers, though this just makes me sob even harder. "Shh, Baby. It will be okay," She says, rocking me back and forth

"Why are you comforting me?" I manage to choke out. "You should be comforting Cynthia, she's the one who really needs it!"

"What are you talking about, Alice?" She pulls me away from her chest, so she can see my face.

"It's my fault that no one came to Cynthia's party and it's my fault that she's so upset!"

"Alice that not- "

"Yes it is! And you know it!" I yell, sobbing into my hands

She sighs and embraces me again. "That may be true, Alice, but-

"But what?!" I cut her off. "I'm a freak and everyone in town knows it-"

"Mary Alice Brandon! I don't want to hear you utter those words ever again! Do you hear me?! You are not a freak and anyone who says so obviously doesn't know you. You're the most kind-hearted and loving person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I couldn't ask for a better daughter." She wipes my tears and kisses my forehead. "I love you, Mary Alice. Try to get some sleep," she says as she tucks me under the blankets, like when I was a child, and kisses my forehead once more. "I'll see you in the morning," she says before getting up to exit the large room.

"Mama," I say before she reaches the door.

She turns around, "Yes?"

"I love you, too." She smiles before turning off the light, leaving me alone.

I fell asleep quite easily after speaking to Mama. It was hours later when I awoke to voices coming from down stairs. I am too groggy to tell who the voices belong to, but I can tell that they're arguing.

I get out of bed and open my door just a crack, but the light still floods in, making me squint. I listen harder, trying to make out what they're saying, without seceding, however. I open the door slowly, trying to keep it from squeaking. I step out into the hall. I tiptoe as I pass Cynthia's room, so I wouldn't wake her. Good thing she is a heavy sleeper.

I make it to the end of the hall, peer around the corner, and look down the staircase, seeing into the kitchen.

Near the bottom of the staircase was a man with pitch-black hair combed back neatly out of his face with a thick mustache framing his upper lip. He has a strong, square jaw bone and a long, thin nose. He is thin and is wearing a long trench coat and black trousers. His eyes are light blue, the same as mine.

I recognize this man as my father. "Why did you let her go outside, Lilian?" He says angrily.

"I -"

"You should have known better!"

"I'm sorry, I was busy and there was no one to pick Cynthia up from school. You were supposed to be home a week ago." She says defensively.

"My work took me - "

"I know! Work, work... is that all you do?" She laughs once with humor. "Do you know what Cynthia wished for her birthday, William?" She says sounding slightly hysterical. My father stares at her, not answering her. "She wished that her father was here," She said with teary eye. "You're never here anymore. I even know the exact date Cynthia was conceived. June 2, 1909; 11:32 PM."

"Don't change the subject, Lilian," he said sternly. "This is about Mary Alice." I stiffen at the sound of my name. "You should have never let her out in the first place. We don't need her drawing anymore attention to this family than she already has. Don't make that mistake again," he says coldly as he leaves the kitchen. Mama sits down at the kitchen table and sobs into her arms.

I notice that I too am crying. Even my father thinks I'm a freak and wants me to be cut off from society.

I go back down the hall creeping back into my room. I curl up into a ball on my bed, trying to cry myself back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2 Fright

Chapter 2 Fright

It is sunny outside, another beautiful day in Biloxi, Mississippi that I am forced to stay within the perimeter of our property line, not that I went out much before, but ever since Cynthia's birthday my father had been even more strict about me going out.

I sit on the old tire swing underneath the massive Weeping Willow, slowly swing back and forth, while I read my favorite book; "Forgotten in the Garden."

Hours pass as I wait for Cynthia to return from school. When I hear a blood curling scream coming from the house. I run back inside to see where it came from. I step into the kitchen; no one is there, "Mama?" I call, no one answers.

I look in every room one by one finding nothing, "Mama?!" I call again, my voice slightly hysterical. I wait listening for an answer; nothing. I start to look up stairs, when I hear a moan coming from the Master bedroom. "Mama?!" yell, she moans again. I run inside the large room, finding her on the floor her hand pressed tightly to her abdomen, I rush over to her. "Mama, what happened?!" I cry. She looks at me her face white with pain, and then looks down at her hand slowly removing it from her abdomen. It is stained with blood.

I take her hand pressing it back to the gruesome wound. "How did this happen?" I hiss. She looks over her shoulder towards the open door. There stands a large man about six foot five-I didn't notice him before- He is dressed nicely wearing a black vest and slacks. He has brown hair and piercing green eyes, his large hands holding a Medieval-looking weapon, covered in Mama's blood. He glared at us shutting the door behind him.

She looks up at him pleadingly "Do what you want with me, but let the girl go." She says.

"Fine." He says in a deep cold voice.

"I'm not leavin' you!" I protest.

"You will, Alice, go, now!" She says sternly

I shake my, head tears streaming down my face "I won't."

"Listen to your mother, kid, if you know what's good for you" he says impatiently, closing the small space between me and my mother.

I Look at him and then at my mother, "It will be okay, Mary Alice, I love you." She says. When I don't move she pushes me weakly towards the door. "Go!" With one last glance at my mother I run out of the room shutting the door behind me. I sprint down the hall, practically throwing down the stairs, continue running out the back door. I can still hear the screams and the thumps of the man hitting hear repentantly, coming from inside the house. I run into town not caring who sees me, I run as fast as I can until I see what I am looking for. My Aunt Wilma and Uncle Jakes house, maybe they can help.

I bang on the door. "What is all the commotion?!" My Aunt says, opening the door, then looks down at me, and scowls. "What do you want, Mary?" she says coldly, obviously still upset about the death of her son. She feels that it is my fault that Vinnie is dead. "You look like hell." I look down at myself, my clothes and hands covered in blood.

"There's a man in our house, I think he is going to kill my mother! You have to help!" I beg.

"Well, that's not my problem." She says slamming the door in my face. I stand there in shock, for a moment, but quickly recover myself quickly. I don't know what to do; they were my only chance a no one else in town would even talk to me.

I run back home a fast as I can hoping that the man has spared my mother, I run in the house wary of what I might find. I reluctantly go up stairs, the house feeling eerie. I go into the Master bedroom expecting to find Mama's dead body; I open the door to be greeted by the strong smell of bleach. I look around the room for Mama, but she isn't here and there isn't any evidence that she was there. There is no blood that had once covered the floor and white sheet on the bed, which had been striped bear. I exit the room feeling queasy.

I look through every room, first mine, nothing, and then Cynthia's, nothing. Starting to get a little unnerved I go back down stairs. I look in every room, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the guest room, then the family room, and she still hasn't shown up. There I one last room I didn't check yet, the bathroom, I stand in front of the bathroom door dreading to open it, Knowing what I would find when I did. I take a deep breath, slowly opening the door.

Inside lies my mother laying in a pool of her own blood, the bath had been drawn, and there is a broken vase implanting her abdomen leaving shards of bloody glass everywhere, the room had been set up to look like a horrible accident. "Mama?" I cry tear sting my eye. I hold her limp body in my arms sobbing "Mama?" I sob over and over again, but she never answers.

* * *

I awake from the horrible nightmare in a cold sweat. It's still dark out, but knowing I won't be able to go back to sleep, I hop out of bed, and go over to the large window opening it, letting in the cool February air in. I stand there for a long moment trying to shake the dream; I Know that it wasn't just a dream, but it was also a vision. My visions about Jane and Vinnie had been the same way. I begin pasting the floor, thinking about the possible future of my mother, the room suddenly feels as if it is shrinking, threatening to suffocate me. I leave the room tip-toeing down the hall for the second time tonight.

I go into the kitchen and sit at the kitchen table, but sitting just seems to make it worst, so I go out the back door into the backyard. It's freezing outside- it had snowed again while I was sleeping.

I step onto the cold snow, it burns as I do so, but the pain helps me think. I walk out to the bare Weeping Willow tree and sit on the tire swing looking straight back to the house. I think about my vision, for what feels like hours, when I hear something from inside catches my attention.

I watch, incoherently as the lights go on in the dining room. The next thing I know my mother is leading me inside. She closes the door behind her wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders, and then looks at me with a puzzle expression. "Alice, what were you doing outside? You could have frozen to death."

I look at my mother, think about the vision; I can't bear the fact that I might loose her; that I just break down crying right in front of her. She pulls me into her arms leading me into the family room and sits me on the sofa pulling me into lap rocking me in her arms.

"Do you want to talk about?" she asks after a while. I shake my head laying it on her chest. She kisses me on top of my head, "It will be okay, Alice." At that I start crying again. Knowing that it won't be okay, my mother practically raised me all by herself and I don't know what l would do if she died I can't raise Cynthia by myself I'm only seventeen, though I should have been well married by now, but it's kind of hard to find a suitor when every man in town thinks you're a witch.

"Shh. Alice, it will be okay, baby." She says over and over again rocking me back and forth comfortingly. I eventually silent, she doesn't ask me if I want to talk about it again, she already knows the answer. We just sit there, she hold me in her arms stroking my hair soothingly, until the break of dawn. The sun shines through the sheer curtains, hurting my eyes. I turn away from the window to face my mother. She strokes my cheek lovingly and kisses me on the forehead. "You Know we are going to have to talk about this sooner or later?" she asks

I nod, "I choose later, I don't want to tell it twice." I whisper.

She nods, with a puzzled look on her face. "Did you have another vision?' she ask

I frown as another stream of tears threatens to flow. "It will be okay, Mary Alice." She says embracing me tightly. "You don't have to worry about anything."

* * *

About an hour later the others begin to wake. First Cynthia comes down the stairs and comes into the Family room. She sees me in Mama's arms and gets a worried expression on her face. "Is Alice okay, Mama?"

"She's fine, sweetheart, she just a little upset, that's all." She says trying to comfort her.

"Is she still not feeling well?"

I sit up and reluctantly move away from Mama. "I'm fine, really" I smile but it doesn't touch my eyes. She still isn't convinced, I give her a hug, "I love you," I whisper, "Everything is going to be fine, I promise." I lie. She nods and hugs me back tightly. My Father eventually came down stairs, seeing us in the Family room.

"What's going on, here?" He asks.

"Mary Alice has something she wants to tell us." Mama answers.

My father eyes me warily, but sits down in his large recliner. "Well, what is it?"

I look at Mama, unsure of what to say, she nods scooting closer to me holding my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I take a deep breath, looking at our intertwined hands. I don't know where I should start. I guess the beginning would be best. "I had a vision last night." I say. My father frowns, Cynthia looks worried; Mama is the only one who stays composed, for she already knew of this.

I tell them about the vision, and the horrible ordeal that Mama maybe put through. By the time I finish everyone seems to have a different reaction, Mama is in shock, Cynthia crying quietly into her hands, Papa seems to be very composed, as if I just didn't tell him his wife is going to be brutally murdered. "I don't think we have anything to worry about." He says after a long moment.

This seems to break Mama out of her trance, her head snaps towards Papa and she glares at him angrily. "What are you talking about? Your life isn't a stake here! This something to worry very much so about!" she say her eyes filling with tears.

"Calm down, Lillian. All I mean is that Mary Alice's visions don't always come true, we shouldn't get ourselves worked up about something that might not happen."

"Her visions about Vinnie and Jane, they came true." She retorts

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, doesn't it, William?" She asks sarcastically. I never heard Mama talk to Papa this way before.

They glare angrily at each other for about five minutes straight, Cynthia snuggles into my arm hind her face and covers her ears; hear no evil, see no evil. Papa eventually storms out the room angrily.

We were silent for a long moment the tension between Mama and Papa can still be felt even though they are in separate room. "Mama?" Cynthia whispers. Mama expressions softens when she looks at her, "Is everything really going to be okay?" she asks, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I hope so, sweety, I hope so." She says hugging her tightly. We stare at each other. Tears well up in my eyes; I really hope Papa is right that nothing will happen to Mama. I can't lose her.

* * *

The rest of the day goes on as if this had never happened.

It's supper time and Mama and Papa have spoken to each other all day, Its been really awkward between them too, None of us speak as we eat, well they eat, I just push around the peas on my plate. "You've barely touched your food, Mary Alice." Mama comments, breaking the belonged silence.

"I really don't feel well." I reply. I actually don't feel well this time, I have an awful headache and my throat feels raw and scratchy.

Mama gets up and goes around the table to meet me, and places her hands on my forehead and face.

"You feel feverish; I hope you're not coming down with that Spanish Influenza that has been going around. Go up stairs I'll be in a moment."

I go up stair to my room change into my nightgown, get into bed falling asleep gratefully, I didn't get much sleep last night due to the awful vision.

* * *

I wake up with a pounding headache; it is as if someone is taking a hammer and is slamming it into my head repeatedly the room is lite dully with candle light. I close my eyes trying to fall back to sleep, when something cold touches my forehead. I turn my head to see where it came from, my whole body aches causing me to immediately regret the action. I moan in pain.

Someone touches my check. I don't move this time not wanting to cause another spasms of pain. "Hey baby."

"Ohh."I moan again the pain is awful, and my throat feels like some suck a hot iron down it.

"Your fiver spiked, I called Doctor Higginbottom, he'll be here in the morning." Mama says wiping my forehead with a wet cloth.

"Oh, I feel awful." I moan.

"Well that what you get for going out into the snow without any shoes on." She says in mock disapproval.

"Mama?" I whisper, my voice sounding horse.

"What is it baby?"

"What are we going to do? I don't-"

"Don't worry about that, now. Right now all you should be worrying about is getting better." she sighs. "We'll keep an eye out, I won't let anything happen to me, you and Cynthia still need me."

"You promise?" I ask with a cough.

"I promise. Get some rest, I'll be in my room if you need me. I love you." she says caress my cheek then kisses me on the forehead and blows out the candle. A small crack of light dissipates as she closes the door.

I try to fall back to sleep, thinking about Mama's promise. I knew that She wouldn't be able to keep it and it was selfish for me to ask her to, but I still hope.

I close my eyes as the fever overtakes me and I fall into oblivious sleep.

**ediited by heyhellohowdy - My awe2ome friiend**

**Author's notes: I'll be writing the 3rd chapter soon. I'd like to know how you liked it and also, please review! You guys are awesome. And again, thank you, heyhellohowdy. You're welcome, dude. _ keep reading my peps.**


	3. Chapter 3 Bereavement

_**Warning: There are very descriptive scenes involving blood. Viewer discretion is advised**_

**Chapter 3 Bereavement**

_**June 26, 1918**_

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**It has been four months since I had the vision of Mama being killed. Everyone has been on edge since then. Every slam of a door or drop of a glass makes me jump. I guess you could say that I'm being paranoid, but what choice do I have? I can't do anything that will risk Mama's life. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared. I really hope Papa is right about my vision being wrong. I really do.**_

I look out to the shoreline, watching the sun set. Waves crash onto the beach and recede back into the vast ocean.

I close my diary and set it down on the soft sand. I had went to the beach earlier today. It always helps calm my nerves, which have been really high lately.

I've been here for hours thinking about Mama; she is always in my thoughts nowadays. I think about how she used to tuck me in and read me bedtime stories, or when she would sing to me when I fell and scraped my knee. But my thoughts would always end up going back to the vision of her death. With her lying on the floor, pale with blood oozing from the gruesome wound in her abdomen. Me holding her limp, dead body in my arms. The thought brings tears to my eyes.

I sit on the beach deep in thought, crying silently to myself.

"Alice," someone says putting their hand on my shoulder. I jump - not expecting anyone to be here with me- and turn around to see my sister frowning down at me.

"Cynthia, what are you doing here?" I breathe.

"I followed you. Why are you crying Ali?" She asks still frowning. She hates seeing me upset, just as much as I hate seeing her upset. Though I don't answer her.

"You shouldn't have followed me, Cynthia. Does Mama know you went out?" She shakes her head. "Then we better get you home before she gets too worried." I stand up, pick up my pen and diary, and dust the sand off of it and myself. I take Cynthia's hand and start walking towards the path, leading to the woods.

"Why were you you crying Alice?" she asks again, but I still don't answer. "You were thinking about Mama weren't you?" she says, her large eyes wide. I could barely see their blue tint now that the sun had completely gone down.

I sigh, "You're not going to let this go, are you?" She just looks up at me, waiting for my answer. I sigh again, knowing I won't be able to get around her question. "Yes, Cynthia. I was thinking about Mama."

She frowns not liking answer, "Do you really think Mama is going to die?" she asks, leaning her head on my arm as we walked.

"I hope not, Cynthia. I really hope not".

We walk in silence the rest of the way home. When we enter the house, all the lights are out. Mama had already went to bed. I look up at the large grandfather-clock in the living room. It's 11:35. I didn't realize how late it was. "Let's get you into bed, Cynthia. It's waaaay past your bedtime."

"S'okay." her words slur with fatigue, she leans grogley against my arm. She could collapse at any moment.

I pick her up, carry her to her room, pull back the covers on her bed, and tuck her in."Good night, Cynthia," I whisper, but she was already out. I let myself out of her room and go back down stairs.

Though it is late, I am far from tired and I know I won't be able to fall asleep even if I tried. So, I go out to the tire swing hanging on the weeping willow, like I had done so many months ago. I sit there staring up at the full moon; it's light casts a silver glow on everything it touches. I sit here 'til morning, thinking about the future and where it will bring me and my family.

It is dawn when fatigue finally comes over me. I go back inside and get ready for bed. I change out of my dress and into my nightgown and get into bed. I close my eyes, pulling the covers over my head as the faint sunlight enters my room. "Please, let her live, God," is my only prayer before fall into a peaceful sleep; something I hadn't had in a long time. Maybe everything will okay after all.

* * *

**Fourth of July**

"Ali, Ali, Ali!" Cynthia yells, bouncing into my room.

"What is it Cynthia?" I laugh.

"There is going to be a parade in the town plaza today! Can you please, please, please, take me, Ali?!"

I frown, knowing Papa would never let me leave the house and go the the plaza. It was the most crowded place in town and it will be especially crowded today of all days. And being in a crowded place when you're a "witch" isn't the best idea.

"I don't think I'll be able to, Cyn. You know Papa doesn't like me going out."

She frowns. "But I really want to go with you!" She pouts.

"I know, but I'm sure Mama or Papa can take you." I say trying to cheer her up. "Let's go ask them now." I take Cynthia's hand and lead her down stairs. Papa was actually home for once, maybe he could take her to the parade. It would be nice for them to do some father-daughter bonding. She rarely gets to see him.

When we came down stairs, Mama and Papa are both in the living room. Papa is sitting on the sofa, reading the newspaper, and Mama is sitting beside him, crocheting a lace border of a pillow. Mama glances up at us and smiles. "Hello, girls. What can we do for you?" ask asks, her fingers rapidly form the elegant border.

"Can one of you please take me to the Fourth o' July parade at the plaza?" Cynthia's asks sweetly, giving them her puppy dog face.

Papa immediately looks up from the paper when she said this. "I'll take you!" he responds hastily.

"Really?!" she exclaims happily.

He nods and folds up the paper, "We should leave early so we can get good spots."

"Can Ali come too?!" He frowns. He didn't want to hear that.

"You know I can't come with you, Cyn. But you can still have fun with Papa."

"Oh okay," she sighs disappointedly, but she resigned. She smiles up at Papa taking his hand. "Let's go, Papa." He smiles down at her and they exit through the front door.

I sit down next to Mama and sigh. She looks up at me from her work. "Are you okay, Mary Alice?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, putting my face in my hands.

"I know it must be hard for you, not being able to go out."

I nod. "We could still have fun, Mary Alice," she says, smiling slightly.

"How?' I ask, sounding a little secupltical.

"We can bake cupcakes for Cynthia and Papa and then when it's dark enough, we can roast marshmallows in the back yard. Would you like that?"

I smile, not able to resist Mama's attempts to cheer me up. "Okay... But can we make s'mores too?"

"Sure. Whatever you'd like." She smiles. "Well, those cupcakes aren't going to make themselves. We'd better get working!" she says, heading towards the kitchen.

We start by making the cup, filling the mixing bowl with the ingredients. "Alice, it seems that we're out of sugar cane. Would you be a dear and go fetch some out on the yard?"

"Sure," I say with a smile. I'm having more fun than I've had in a long time. I grab a basket and a knife and head out into the backyard.

I go down the path that leads into the large sugar cane field. Our house used to be a plantation back in the 1800s but no one had the time nor need to tend to it, though it still produces 's convenient as having a mini market in your backyard.

I get a large basket full of sugar cane and go back to the house. "I got the sugar cane, Mama. Mama?" She wasn't in the kitchen anymore... Where had she gone? "Mama?" I call again, slightly louder than before. But she doesn't answer. "Oh, no!" I whisper. This can't be happening... Everything has been going so well!

I run upstairs and down the long hall, automatically going to the master bedroom already knowing where she will be. I push the door open and run inside to find my mother on the floor, her hand firmly pressed to the bloody wound on her abdomen, just like in my vision. I look at my mother then to the man standing by door, just where I knew he would be. "Mama!" I cry, tears streaming down my face, but she isn't paying attention to me. She is looking at the man, who is now shutting the door behind him.

"Do what you want with me, but let the girl go," she says. Of course. She is always only thinking of me and not of herself.

The man nods. "Get out!" he bellows at me in a deep voice.

"No!" I spit back.

"Mary Alice! Go now!" my mother commands.

"No, I'm not leaving you- I'm not going to let you die!"

"It will-"

"NO! I'm NOT leaving you!" I yell.

"Alice, please," she begs and tries to push me towards the door, but she is too week. I shake my head, a large lump forms at the base of my throat, leaving me unable to speak.

"Listen to your mother, if you know what's good for you," the man threatens, closing the space in between him and us.

I ignore him, "I'm not going to leave you, Mama. I can't." She looks at me with fear-filled eyes, but not for her own life. For mine.

'I'm not goin' to tell you again kid! Get out!" He yells furiously. His large hands tighten around the bloody, club-like weapon.

"No!" I yell back. This seems to push him over the edge. His face turns bright red and his body trembles with fury. He drops the blood-stained club and yanks a handful of my hair. I cry out in pain as he drags me out of the room. He pulls me down the hall by the root of my hair and throws me down the staircase. I hit my head on the bottom step, which leaves a huge gash in my forehead. I watch in horror as the man retreats back to the master bedroom with a loud slam of the door. And with that, the screaming begins.

* * *

I get up and start running towards town. I know that Uncle Jake and Aunt Wilma won't help so I go to the police station. Sheriff Coxs will have to help.

I rush into the station feeling winded; I had sprinted the whole way. "Sheriff, please! You have to help me!" I manage to choke out.

He looks at me in shock of my appearance. My hair is matted and tangle with blood that oozed from my forehead. My clothes are ripped and stained with my Mama's blood. Blood drips down the side of my face, leaving behind a dark red trail.

"What in the hell happened to you, Mary?!" he says, coming around the desk to meet me.

"There's a man inside my house! He's going to kill my mother! Please, help!" I beg with tear rimed eyes.

He rips the bottom of his shirt and presses it to my forehead, trying to stop the bleeding. "Did he do this to you?" he asks, his eyes full of worry. He is one of the few people who didn't believe I was a witch.

I nod. "We need to leave now, we don't have much time."

He nods and leads me outside. "We'll take my car," he says, opening the passenger door for me, then quickly getting in on the driver's side and starting the car.

The drive feels like an eternity, but we eventually make to the house. As soon as the car stops, I hop out and run towards the house. But something grabs me by the wrist, stopping me dead in my tracks. I turn around, annoyed, I could have been inside by now. "He can still be inside, Mary. I don't want you getting more hurt than you already are."

"My mother may be dead!" I say, pulling my arm free of his grip and running inside. I fly up the stairs and burst in the master bedroom, hoping that she was still there. But she isn't. The room was a precise image of my vision: spotless, the bed striped of its sheets, and worst of all, the strong smell of bleach.

I fall to my knees and begin to sob, for at this very moment I knew she was dead. She was in the downstairs bathroom, lying in a puddle of her own blood. I was too late.

I hear the sound of heavy footsteps from behind, then someone lays their large hand on my shoulder. "Why are you crying, Mary?" Sheriff Coxs asks, peering into the room with a puzzled expression.

"She's not here," I sob.

"Don't worry, Mary. We'll find her," he says, pulling me to my feet. I'm not worried about finding her. I know exactly where she is. He leads me down the stairs and sits me down on the sofa in the living room. He goes into the kitchen and comes back with a wet dish cloth. He kneels in front of me and wipes the blood and tears off my face and presses it tightly to my forehead. The cuts hadn't stopped bleeding yet. I'm probably going to need stitches."We're going to find her, Mary," he promises, but I wasn't paying attention to him. I stare at the bathroom door, knowing she'll be in there. Without thinking, I get up and walk towards the door, and stand in front of it, not opening the door.

"Mary?" he asks, now extremely confused. I don't answer him. I just stand there, picturing my vision over and over again. I don't want to have to experience that in reality, but I know I'll have to eventually.

I take a deep breath and open the door slowly. Inside lies my mother laying in a pool of her own blood. The bath had been drawn, and there is a broken vase implanted her abdomen, leaving shards of bloody glass everywhere. The room had been set up to look like a horrible accident. Just like in my vision.

I rush inside and pick up her body and begin sobbing into her chest. "Mama! Oh, Mama!"

* * *

After I found her body in the bathroom, Sheriff Coxs calls an ambulance for me and Mama. I had to get seven stitches in my forehead, but I didn't even notice when they put them in. I was too far gone.

I sit in the waiting room, waiting for the doctor to come back and tell what the cause of Mama's death was, though I already knew what it was.

I pull my legs up to my chest and and stare off into space. I'm vaguely aware that Sheriff Coxs is sitting next to me. It feels like hours later when Cynthia and Papa come running through the doors. "Mary Alice! Are you okay?!"My father asks, sound slightly worried.

Just then, the doctor comes back and tells us what the cause of death is. "Hello, Mr. Brandon," he says in a grave tone. "I am sorry to inform you that wife has died." Papa stares at the doctor, his face impassive. He doesn't seem upset, though he could be hiding it. He never really shows his emotion. "It would seem that she slipped and hit her head, accidentally knocking the vase over. She fell on it, impaling herself. It was all one big, freak accident."

"What?!' I yell. How could he say her death was an accident?! "She was murdered! It was far from an accident! You have no idea what you're saying!" I yell furiously.

"I went to medical school for twelve years, I think I can tell the difference between an accident and blatant murder, young lady," he says coldly

"Well, you obviously don't! You should go back to med- school because you suck at your job!"

"Mary Alice! That is enough! I don't want to hear another word out of you! Do you understand?" Papa yells.

" But-"

"Not another word!"

I reluctantly silence myself. Papa is not fun to be around when he is angry. Tears run down my face because I can't believe that my mother's murderer is going to get away with this so easily. Why won't they listen to me? I was the only witness.

* * *

**One week later**

It's been a week since Mama's "accident." My whole world has been turned upside down. I cry myself to sleep every night. I'm a complete mess, I can't eat, can't sleep... I haven't even spoken since Papa silenced me. I'm really starting to scare Cynthia. She's so worried about me, but I can't seem to shake this depression. The funeral is supposed to be this afternoon, maybe it will hell give me closure.

I sit on my my bed waiting till we have to leave for the funeral. It starts at 12:30 at the St. Mary's Baptist Church of God.

There is a light knock at my door. "Ali," Cynthia whispers. "May I come in?" I don't answer. "I'm going to come in now, okay?" The door opens slowly and she walks inside. "Ali, Papa said we have to go to the church soon." I nod. "Ali, please talk to me. You've been so quiet. I'm worried about you."

I couldn't say anything, I just couldn't. The pain and sadness was just too much for me. Tears stream down my face and I start sobbing into my hands. Cynthia raps her thin arms around me, embracing me in a hug of love. She holds me till I cry myself out. After a long moment, I'm eventually silent. I look at Cynthia and give her a sad smile. "Thank You, Cynthia." She smiles too, with a single tear falling down her cheek. She gives me her handkerchief and I wipe my eyes.

She gives me one last hug when my father enter the room. "It's time to go, girls."

"Okay," we say in unison. Cynthia takes my hand and we follow my father out the door.

**Author's Note: I know this part is kinda boring but it get's better. I promise. Please keep on reading and review.**


	4. Chapter 4 Unforeseen

_**Chapter 4 Unforeseen**_

_**January 11, 1919**_

_**Dear Diary,**_

_**It has been a little over six months since Mama passed and it would seem as if my entire world has been turned upside down. Papa has all but forgotten Mama. He acts as if she never existed, glad that she was gone even. It just doesn't seem right. He didn't even seem to mourn her death, not even a little bit. And what was even more suspicious was that he had started dating some blonde women from Chicago less than a month after she died. Her father is a good client of Papa's; that's how they met initially.**_

_**Ms. Veronica Crooney-now Brandon- is her name, and she is the most pernicious woman that has ever walked the earth. She absolutely adores Cynthia, and treats her as if she is a child of gold. Though she unquestionably hates me. We often get into arguments, which always ends with me getting punished. I adamantly hate Veronica and wish she would go back to Chicago where she belongs.**_

I set my diary on my nightstand and move over to my large window looking outside. Once again, another winter has brought a thick blanket of snow covering the ground.

I stare outside, watching the snow flakes gently fall onto the wet earth, thinking about the past events of the last few months.

It had been announced less than three months after Mama died that Veronica and Papa were to be wed. I cringe at the thought of her being my new mother.

I can never see her in a maternal role. She's too egocentric and pompous to be a good mother. She is always concerned with vanity and her own well being.

The wedding was in December, on Christmas. They have been getting everything ready for the past five months: Veronica's dress, mailing the wedding notices,and making all the necessary arrangements for the event.

Veronica would often invite her friend over and talk to the about the wedding plans. I would sometimes overhear their conversations, and some things about them just didn't seem right.

Her friends were over a few months ago and Margaret- I think her name was- had mentioned how Veronica and Papa had went to Paris, France. Which was odd since Papa and Veronica had been supposedly engaged for only two months at the time. They wouldn't have been able to have done that -at least not without Cynthia and me noticing- in that very short amount of time. I had questioned Veronica about it, angering her in the process.

"Mind yourself, Mary! This is an adults conversation, nothing a young child should be involved in," she said coldly. This only made my suspicions stronger if not anything.

And it had been that way throughout the engagement. Veronica would often slip and say something that would suggest that they had been planning the wedding longer than once thought to be.

None of it seems right really: how Papa had not wanted me to tell anyone how Mama really died, how easily he had gotten over Mama's death, how he had rushed into marriage with Veronica and how it seemed that they had been planning their marriage for years rather than months.

And now that they had wed, it seemed to only confirms my suspicions even more. I really hate to think of my father that way, but something deep down something tells me that he had been involved with Mama's death.

A light knock on my door had pulls me out of my thought. "Ali?" Cynthia says in a small voice from behind the door. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," I say as I open the door for her.

She sits down on my bed, her legs dangling high above the floor. I sit next to her stroking her soft caramel curls. I sigh inwardly. She looks so much like Mama.

"What's wrong, Cyns?",I ask when she doesn't speak after a long time.

She shakes her head. "Papa said to get you for supper," she says in a solemn voice.

With an audible sigh, I wrap my arms around her, embracing her tightly. "Yeah, I miss her too." I take her hand and get up off the bed. "Come on. Let's go before our food get cold." She gives me a small smiles and squeezes my hand tightly, following me down stairs.

* * *

Over the next few months, my suspicions have only grown stronger. It's getting harder to keep quiet. So, I decided to confront my father with the topic. I don't know exactly what to say, but I know I can't keep silent any longer.

After supper, I muster up the courage to talk to him. I pace nervously in front of his study. There is no telling how he will react to my accusation. Papa is always unpredictable in his ways of doing things.

Just as I'm going to knock on the door, it opens, causing me to stagger back in surprise. Papa looks down at me with confused eyes. I know not to bother him when he's working, but this is important. "Mary," he says as to tell me to proceed.

"I need to talk to you," I say in a soft whisper. He eyes me warily for a moment, then reluctantly lets me inside his study.

"This better be important, Mary," he says, sitting in the chair across from me.

"It is," I insist, slightly exasperated. _Would it kill him to call me Alice once?_

"Well?" He says when I don't speak right away.

"Uh-"

"Mary, I don't have time for games, I'm very busy."

_Just say Alice. It's better that way in the long run._

"Papa, did- did you have something to do with Mama's death?" I stammer.

"What?" He asks in disbelief.

"Did you have anything to do with Mama death?" I ask more confidently this time.

"Why on earth would you think that?" He sneers his eye full of undeniable fury.

"Because, when you and Veronica were engaged, one of her friends said that she and you went to France. Which I don't see as possible since you guys had been living here since the engagement and hadn't gone anywhere either."

He guffaws. "So, you think I killed your mother? Because of some extemporaneous comment that one of Veronica's frivolous friends made?"

"It's not only that," I say statedly.

"Oh, really now? I would love hear the other reasons to why you believe I killed your mother in cold murder," he says sarcastically, putting his elbows on the desk. He rests his chin on his hand, leaning forward attentively as if is he was truly interested.

"It just doesn't make sense," I continue ignoring his sarcastic comment. "Even before she died, you weren't concerned at all with my vision of Mama, and your indifference when she did die. You didn't grieve, you went on as if she never existed. Then came Veronica. It was less than a month after Mama died you were dating, engaged by three and married by six.

"You have the motive and all the resources to it. I wasn't oblivious to your and Mama's relationship, Papa. It was far from happy marriage." He glares at me, his anger increasing with every word.

"You hired that man to kill Mama, so you can marry Veronica." It isn't a question because already knew. I always knew deep down. But saying it out loud made it all the more real.

Slamming his hands on the desk, he stands now towering over me, glaring with anew anger.

He's beyond furious, his body shakes violently with tremors of fury. His face is flush-bright red. The vein in his forehead is more defined than I've ever seen it in the past.

"Do you realize what you're accusing me of?!" His yell is ear-splitting. "You think just because I married shortly after my wife died I had killed her? You must have lost your mind coming to me and saying such a thing as that!"

I keep my face as smooth as possible as I spoke- he is honestly frightening me. "You didn't deny it," I say trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, refusing to show how frightened I really am.

His eyes flash again with his new acute fury.

He grabs me by the arm, pulling up into a standing position. "You're going to regret this, Mary," he growls through clenched teeth, throwing me out of his study and slams the door behind me with a bang.

I stand in front of the door in shock for a long moment. I sigh. This isn't good. Though it had gone better than expected, at least he didn't hit me. But the last thing he said to me still lingers in my mind, _'You're going to regret this, Mary.'_ What had he meant by that?

I shake my head, trying to clear it, and go back to my room. I open my door to see Cynthia sitting on my bed with tears streaming down her face.

"Ali," she chokes. Rushing me, she wraps her tiny arms around my waist. "Oh, Ali! Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" She cries, her voice colored with worry.

"Shh. Cynthia, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. It's OK."

She looks up at me, her eyes glistening with tears. "He was so angry, Ali. I was so scared."

"It's OK, everything is going to be fine," I say in an attempt to comfort her.

_'You're going to regret this, Mary.'_ His voice resounded in my head again.

"Ali?" She asks, seeing my discomfort.

"Everything is fine," I lie swiftly. I glance at the clock hanging on the wall, it's a quarter after ten. "Come on Cynthia, let's get you to bed," I say, leading her down the hall to her room in an attempt to distract her. "It's way past your bedtime."

I pull back the covers on her bed, tuck her in, and sit with her, waiting for her to fall asleep.

"Ali?"

"Shh, Cynthia. How many time do I have to tell you? Everything is going to be fine," I sooth.

"You promise?"

"I promise. Now try to get some sleep."

"Okay," she says with a yawn.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ali." We sit for a while in comfortable silence. "Ali," she says after a long moment.

"Hm?"

"Will you sing to me? Like the way Mama did when she was alive?"

I smile sadly. "Sure, Cynthia," I whisper stroking her hair soothingly.

"Deep in the meadow, under the willow

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open , the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the Meadow, hidden far away

A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray

Forget your woes and let your troubles lay

And when again it's morning they'll wash away

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you."

Tears are streaming down my face when I finish the song. Mama would sing this song to me when I was young and awoke in the middle of the night, frightened by a bad dream.

By the time I finished, Cynthia had fallen asleep. I kiss her on her forehead before leaving her room, shutting the door behind me. Heading back up the hall to my own room.

I change into my nightgown, brush my hair, then finally get into my bed. I feel exhausted, but sleep still manages to evade me.

Cynthia's worry had only increased my own anxiety. She was so adamant that something bad is going to happen and it didn't help that Papa's last words keeps replaying in my head.

_You're going to regret this Mary_.

* * *

I toss and turn throughout the night, not actually falling asleep until the early morning hours. By the time the sun starts to come up, I feel completely worn. I had hardly gotten a wink of sleep last night.

I get out of bed, not seeing the point of trying to sleep in. I'm not going to be able to fall asleep even if I tried.

I go downstairs and sit at the dining room table, resting my head on the cool wood. I didn't notice that I had fallen asleep until the loud screech of a chair scraping against the floor had woken me.

I look up so see who had awaken me. Cynthia is sitting in the chair next to me. She stares at me her big blue eyes wide. "Why are you sleeping down here?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"So you decided sleeping at the dining room table would make it easier for you fall asleep?"

I smile. "Well, it worked." She giggles and comes over to sit on my lap. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly. "I see you slept well." She nods, giving me a cheeky smile.

We sit there for a while sitting in each other's embrace. "You should probably get ready for school now." I say after a long moment with a sigh. I miss her during the day, usually I'm here alone with Veronica. Not my favorite person to pass the time with.

She sighs dejectedly, hopping down from my lap. "Okay," she says, then heads back upstairs to get ready for the day.

Eventually Cynthia leaves for school, shortly followed by Papa leaving for work. He pecks Veronica on the check and heads out the front door, acting as if I wasn't even in the room. Not that I didn't expect that.

It is about a quarter till ten when Veronica announces that she would be going out to run some errands and that she would be gone all afternoon. Which I don't mind at all, any time away from her is a good time. I would be alone until Cynthia comes back from school later today.

The day seems to drag. It's only eleven thirty by the time I decide to go out, within the boundaries of the property line of course. I start tending to the garden and the orchard. It hasn't been tended to properly since Mama passed.

I start pulling weeds, priming and pruning the plants and flowers, feeling oddly ill at ease. My anxiety from last night seems to suddenly return, putting me on edge. I assume my sudden wave of uneasiness is caused by the fact that I had used to do this with Mama, when she was still alive.

I listen very carefully, never letting my guard down as I work. Sing to myself, trying to settle my nerves.

Then once again, Papa's voice resounds in my head repeatedly. _'You're going to regret this, Mary,'_ I try to focus on my work, but I keep hearing it over and over. Feeling extremely unnerved and exposed, I head back to the house, leaving the rest of the work unfinished.

I come out of the orchard and begin my way up the path to the house, still feeling incredibly uneasy. Running, I finally make it back to the house and lock the door behind me. I go upstairs to my bedroom and sit on my bed.

_Why am I so paranoid?_ I shake my head trying to clear it.

It was then when I hear the tread of footsteps downstairs. Cynthia must be back from school. I glance up at the clock. It was only twelve forty-five; she's early.

"Cynthia?" I call, but no one answers. The heavy footsteps only continue to get louder as they come up the stairs. It's then I realize that couldn't be Cynthia. Her tiny frame, and graceful movements could never make a sound like that.

Anew fear is stricken in me at that realization. There's someone in the house and they're coming my way.

My panic increases as the footsteps get closer. Not sure of what to do, I take the chair and push it up against the doorknob, trying to create a barricade. I run into my closet, pushing myself against the door jamb, praying he won't find me here.

I sit curled up against the door, listening to the footsteps grow louder as they get closer. Then they finally stop. It is silent for a moment. I could hear my heart pound rapidly in my chest, threatening to burst at any moment.

The doorknob juggles when he attempts to open it. Without luck, he starts banging against the door, making loud grunts every time he bashes against the door.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the stream of tear follows down my face. Every hit is bringing him closer.

It wasn't long before there was a loud crack of the frame of the door breaking, when he breaks the door down.

I can hear him entering my room, breathing loud and heavy as he treads deeper into the room.

As his footstep get closer and closer to where I lay in the closet, I pray silently for him not to open the door. It is only then I realized that the door opens from the other direction, so laying against it would do no good. He can get inside and it's too late to do anything about it. Tears follow endlessly now, there's nothing I can do.

My breath catches in my throat when the footsteps stop once again. He breathes in heavy pants as he stands there in front of the closet door.

I brace myself waiting for him to open the door, knowing there is nothing I could do. The doorknob turns and the door opens ever so slow. I look up seeing his piercing green eyes glaring down; the eyes of my mother's killer. He stands there for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he breathes. I look down to see his large hand hold a shanking knife.

I look back up at him as to plead with him, but I know it's no use. He's a monster set out on a mission and won't stop until it's complete, so he can receive his reward.

He smiles maliciously, as he wields the knife at me. _'You're going to regret this, Mary'_

* * *

I awake from the horrid nightmare in a cold sweat. I gasp for air, trying to calm myself. Tears stream down my face as I come to a very surreal realization.

My Father wants to kill me.

**Dunt Dun Dun - Suspense :D**

**Hey, Everyone! I know it's been a long time since I last updated, and I'm sorry for that. But now that I'm out of school for the summer, I will update more regularly. :)**

**And for those of you who noticed, yes, I did take the song Alice sang to Cynthia from ****_The Hunger Games_****. It just seemed fitting at that point in the story. **

**I know the story was kinda boring in the beginning, but I had to set up the plot.**

**So thank you to those of you who stuck around. I'll update real soon**

**Keep reading and R&R. See ya next time. :D**

**- Love You Always-**

**JA `3`**


	5. Chapter 5 Betrayal

_**Authors Notes:**_

_**Hey everyone, I know I promised to update more often because it was summer, and I know haven't updated since June. I'm truly sorry about that. My beta went on vacation for the summer and was gone up until a few days ago. Anyway she was in a different state then a different country and it was really hard to work with the time differences. So since she's back now, we can work on it and I can update more regularly. **_

_**I felt kinda bad for keeping you guys waiting so long that a I made it an extra long chapter.**_

_**Hope you like it, enjoy! :)**_

_**-JA**_

* * *

My father wants to kill me.

Over the years, I had come to realize that I wasn't my father's favorite person and he didn't exactly like me either, what with me always drawing unwanted attention to the family with my visions. We never had a close father-daughter relationship. But I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that would be enough for him to want me dead.

I sit in the quiet darkness of my room, unsure of what to do. All I know is that I can't stay here, not unless I want to die.

I pull back the covers slowly, quietly stepping out of bed. I tiptoe across the room, grabbing a pair of shoes out of my closet. Tiptoeing back, I slowly open the door, careful not to wake my sleeping family members.

I creep quietly down the hall, only stopping when I come in front of Cynthia's room. I open the door and step inside. She sleeps soundly. Her soft, wavy hair shines silver in the moonlight.

Moving closer to the bed, I place a soft hand on her hair.

This just maybe the last time I'll see her. My heart aches at the thought. She and Mama were the only people who truly loved me. And now I'm losing both of them in such a short period of time.

A single tear escapes my eye as I kiss her forehead. "I love you," I whisper. She stirs but doesn't wake. I watch her for a few short moments, not yet ready to leave her.

With an inward sigh, I reluctantly leave her side. I can't stay here much longer; it's not safe. I better leave while I still can.

Exiting her room, I begin down the hall again, heading down the stairs and out the back door, shutting it quietly behind me.

Quickly now, I put on my shoes and head off running into the woods. I need to find help, but where?

I have no one. No one will be willing to listen to me. They never had in the past. What would make this time any different from the last? I had only found refuge in my family then, but now they are the cause of the terror. And my only living relatives are my Aunt Wilma and Uncle Jack.

They hate me. But what choice do I have. I'll just have to hope that time has healed the wound of losing their only son and they no longer blamed me. But the likelihood of that is little to none. My odds aren't looking so good.

But I can't give up now. I owe it to Mama that the truth is found out about her death. And if my dying is the only way to do that, then so be it.

With anew determination, I dart off in the direction of my Aunt and Uncle's house. They're my only hope now.

* * *

It's still dark by the time I reach their home. Winded, I approach the house and start pounding on the door repeatedly until my uncle opens it with my aunt standing close behind him.

"What in the world is going on here?" He says groggily. "Mary, do you realize what time it is?"

"I sorry, but I desperately need your help." I say, when he doesn't reply, I explain. "My father," I gasp, "He - he..." an unexpected flow of tears suddenly blurs my vision.

I hadn't actually said the words- _my father wants to kill me_ -out loud yet. And doing so would make the situation all the more real.

"What is it, Mary? Is there something wrong with William?" he asks now truly concerned.

I shake my head, swallowing back the large lump that formed in the base of my throat. "No." I manage to whisper.

"Then what is it?"

"My-" I take a deep breath trying to calm myself "He wants to kill me." They both look at me with a shocked expression. I explain my visions to them. The first, the vision my mother's murder, then the vision of my own and how they both connect to Papa. By the time I finish, Uncle Jake is staring at me as if I've grown a second head. Next to him, my aunt just glares at me with hate filled eyes.

"Please. You have to help me," I cry. My tears flowing steadily now.

Aunt Wilma scowls, pushing Uncle Jack aside so she's standing in front of me now. "Do you think you can come here and ask for our help after what you did? Why on earth would we ever help you?" She sneers, pacing forward causing me to stumble back.

"I never meant for anything bad to happen, Vinnie. I was trying to prevent that-" I shake my head tears flying everywhere. I don't want to think about that now. "Please, you're all I have left," I beg.

Her expression hardens, "No, you're wrong. You _don't_ have anything." She glowers, pacing forward again, pushing me off the porch. "Now get off my property before I get the dogs, you changeling." She growls going back inside, slamming the door behind her.

A fresh flow of tears stream down my face. No one in the family had ever called me that. Even though I knew that Aunt Wilma hated me, it didn't make it hurt any less.

Trying to pull myself together, I stand up brushing off the dirt and debris off my nightgown.

The sudden sound of barking coming from the back of the house startles me slightly. Wiping my tears, I run off in the direction of town. If I stay any longer, Aunt Wilma will kill me before Papa ever gets a chance to.

* * *

The faint light begins to dawn in the east by the time I make it back to town. And the long sleepless night is beginning to wear on me. But stubbornly, I push on. I've come too far to just give up now. If my aunt and uncle won't help me, I'll just have to get help myself. Sheriff Coxs. He'll help me. He had when my mother was murdered, I'm sure he'll help me now.

Finally, I make it to his house and to my great surprise, the house is lit and busy. From the distance, I can see the silhouettes of two people -one male and one female- inside, in what seems to be heated discussion with the Sheriff.

Cautiously, I approach the house. As I get closer, I'm able to make out the voice of the figures inside, "Linal, you can't let her go on like this! It isn't safe for anyone." The male says.

"He's right. She's absolutely gone mad. Accusing my brother of those heinous crimes?" The female agrees. "It won't be long before she goes terrorizing the whole town, as if she hasn't already done that."

"This will be the best thing for everyone," the man says, handing the Sheriff a package. He opens it and looks inside.

He's quit for a long moment, then he sighs putting the packet inside his pocket. "Okay, I'll do it. But if anyone finds out about this, it'll be bad for all us," he warns. They both nod once.

Coming closer, it's only now I recognize the other two figures stand next to the Sheriff. It's my father and my aunt. How did I not recognize their voices before?

They had to be talking about me. What had they meant by 'This will be the best for everyone'? What are they planing? And why would it have such big consequences if anyone finds out?

Obviously confiding in my aunt for help wasn't the greatest idea. Of course she told him that I think he killed my mother- though he already knew that- and he's going to kill me next. And of course he denied it. Now they're planning to shut me up. But how?

I watch as Sheriff Coxs exits the room leaving my aunt and father alone. "Are you sure you want to do this, William? She is your daughter still," she says with a slight hint of bitterness on her tone.

"Like I said, Wilma. It's for the best," he replies, his face impassive. They don't say another word as they wait for Sheriff Coxs to return.

Quietly, I approach the house again, unsure of whether I should stay or go. I have a very wary feeling about what's going on here this morning.

Warily, I knock on the door.

All noise stops from inside the house. It's silent except for the soft chirps of the Lark.

The quiet pad of footsteps suddenly approaches the door, then stops. Someone whispers something, but it's too quiet, I couldn't quite make it out.

Sheriff Coxs opens the door, his face impassive. "Alice," he says in an ominous tone.

"May I come in?" I answer in the same, dire tone.

He nods once and lets me in.

I enter the room to see my aunt and father standing to the left of the room by a small coffee table. They both stare out the side window as if they were waiting for something.

Someone places their hand on my shoulder pulling me from my train of thought. I turn to find that it was Sheriff Coxs. He look down at me, his eyes soft. "Alice, what do you need? I assume that it is important seeing the time of day."

I nod, "May I please speak with you in private?" I ask glancing back to my aunt and father.

He nods, leading me down the hall into a small room which has been posed as an office or a small study. He sits down in a large chair behind the desk, then gestures for me to do the same. A strange feeling of dèjà vu suddenly comes over me. This would be the second time I addressed a man this way in the last seven hours, which makes me feel slightly ill at ease.

"What can I do for you, Alice?"

"I'm sure you know why I'm here." I accuse. He doesn't answer, he just stares at me with a pity filled eye. "Please. Whatever my father told you is a lie. He's a liar, he'd been lying the whole time. Don't let him do this to me," I beg as my tears begin flowing again.

He sighs. "Are sure that your dream was just that; a dream; a simple nightmare?" he asks in a failed attempt to calm me.

I shake my head. "No, it wasn't a dream," I insist. It was way too clear to be a dream. "Please, you have to believe me." I sob uncontrollably.

He comes around the desk and embraces me tightly. "Shh, its okay. Everything's going to be okay." He soothed.

But something just didn't seem right, it didn't feel sincere. But this kind of affection is something I'd been longing for ever since Mama died. So I welcomed it, in spite of my suspicions.

We stay there and I let him comfort me. After a long moment, there's a loud banging on the front door that startles me. The whole house goes silent. There's the sound of footsteps padding across the room and then the opening of the door. "Where's the girl?" asks a male voice.

"Down the hall, to your left." My father answers calmly.

I uncoil from Sheriff Cox's embrace, "What going on?" I ask, feeling my anxiety rising. "Who is that man? What does he want with me?!" I ask my panic increasing. But he doesn't answer, he doesn't even look at me.

There's a knock on the door. He glances up at door regretfully. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"What did you do?!" I gasp, backing away from him. The man knocks on the door again.

He shakes his head, still refusing to look at me. "I'm so sorry," he repeats, opening the door, revealing two larger men. They both are wearing white short sleeve shirts and a pair of cream-colored trousers. It seemed to be a uniform.

"Is this her?" he asks, gesturing to me. Sheriff Coxs nods while staring down at the ground. "Come with us," he says.

I shake my head. "No! What going on?!" I ask frantically, but no one answers.

"Just do as we say, it'll make it easier for everyone," the second man says.

"No! Not until someone answers my question!" I retort stubbornly.

The first man scowls and comes forward, backing me into the far wall. "Now we can do this the hard way or we can do this the easy way, kid. Come with us. Now," he says sternly. When I don't show any signs of submission, he becomes ill-tempered by grabbing me by the arm angrily.

"Ow!" I protest, "Let me go!" struggling needlessly against his strong grip.

He drags me out of the room and down the hall. "Let me go!" I scream but he refuses, pulling me into the living room, with my aunt and father nowhere to be found. The other man comes and takes my other side, making it harder for me to struggle against them. They take me outside onto the porch. There's a large truck that wasn't here when I first came. The light from the living room shines on it, illuminating the logo 'Stone County's Insane Asylum.'

I gasp, "No! No! No! You can't take me there!" I scream, struggling harder against the two men restraining me. "I'm NOT crazy! Let me go!" I cry. They tighten their grip as my struggles increase. A third man appears out of the darkness and opens the back door of the truck, as the other two throw me inside, slamming the door loudly.

"No!" I yell, pounding once on the door. It's pitch black and the only light comes from a small barred window on the back door, letting in the faint light from the house. The light slowly fades away as the truck gets farther and farther away from the house.

* * *

**-Earlier that night- Cynthia's P.O.V-**

"DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE ACCUSING ME OF!? YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE I'M MARRIED SHORTLY AFTER MY WIFE DIED, I HAD KILLED HER?! YOU MUST HAVE LOST YOUR MIND COMING TO ME AND SAYING SUCH A THING AS THAT!"

I'm woken abruptly to Papa yelling and he sounds furious. Not once in my life can I remember him being so angry. But I do remember how he can get when he is.

Though my papa can be sweet and loving at times, he also has a violent side which almost always comes out when he's angry.

Nervously, I get out of bed, go down the hall to where Papa's study is located, and press my ear to the door. "You didn't deny it," Alice says. I gasp, backing away from the door. Oh no! What if he hurts Alice? I run back down the hall and enter Alice's room sitting on her bed.

"Please, please don't let him hurt you, Ali." I whisper to myself again and again. Alice is my best friend, and I hate it when she gets hurt in any way. Tears begin to stream down my face. I can't hear anything and I don't know if that is a good or a bad thing.

A sudden slam of a door startles me, causing me to jump. There's a soft sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Then Alice opens the door, looks up at me, and seems to be deep in thought. I hop off the bed, hugging her tightly. "Oh, Ali! Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?" I cry.

"Shh. Cynthia, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. It's okay."

I look up at her, my eyes glistening with tears. "He was so angry, Ali. I was so scared."

"It's okay, everything is going to be fine," she says in an attempt to comfort me. But it doesn't work. Something's off. There's something she's not telling me. Something's bothering her, but I don't know what that is exactly.

"Ali?" I ask.

"Everything is fine," she assures me.

She glances at the clock hanging on the wall. "Come on, Cynthia. Let's get you to bed," she says, leading me down the hall to my room. "It's way past your bedtime."

She pulls back the covers on my bed and tucks me in. She sits with me, waiting for me to fall asleep.

"Ali?"

"Shh, Cynthia. How many times do I have to tell you? Everything is going to be fine," she soothes.

"You promise?" I asked, still not convinced.

"I promise. Now try to get some sleep."

"Okay," I say with a yawn.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Ali." We sit for awhile in comfortable silence. "Ali?" I ask after a long moment.

"Hm?"

"Will you sing to me? Like the way Mama did when she was alive?" When I couldn't sleep Mama would sing to me. The songs she sang always helped me fall asleep.

She smiles sadly. "Sure, Cynthia," she whispers, stroking my hair soothingly.

_"Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open , the sun will rise._

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_Deep in the Meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray ..._

* * *

I wake up to the thin light shining through the sheer curtains, hurting my eyes. I had slept well last night and feel refreshed. I hop out of bed, leaving my room and go down the hall to Alice's room. I open the door and to my surprise, it was empty. She isn't in her room and her bed wasn't made either. Which is strange, she always keeps her room immaculate.

I go downstairs to look for her, but she's nowhere to be found. I come into the foyer to find Veronica sitting on one of the sofas, she seems to be deep in thought.

"Veronica?" I ask, maybe she knows where Alice is.

"Oh, I didn't know you were up, Cynthia. What do you need?"

"Do you know where Alice is? I can't find her anywhere."

She frowns slightly. "She and Papa went out. They'll be back soon."

"Oh." That's odd, why would they go out so early? "Do you know where they went?"

"No. You should go change out of your nightgown, Cynthia," she says, staring out the window.

"Okay," I say, warily going back up stairs. Something definitely wasn't right. But what?

It's almost noon when I hear the car pull into the driveway. I rush down stairs to greet them only to be bewildered. Alice isn't with Papa.

"Papa, where's Alice?" I ask. I'm being to feel frightened. Why isn't Alice with Papa?

He frowns sadly, and kneels down so that he's at eye level with me. He sighs. "Cynthia," he says dejectedly. "There has been an accident. She's dead."

I stare at him, shell-shocked, tears streaming down my cheeks. I shake my head violently, "No, no, no, no. No. She's NOT dead, Papa. She can't be." I sob.

He embraces me tightly, "I'm so sorry." he whispers into my hair.

* * *

**- Alice's P.O.V-**

I lay curled up in back the of the payload, when the truck came to a sudden stop. I hear the crunch of gravel as the men come around to the back of the truck. They open the door peering inside. "Hey," one of the men says, "get out." I stare him for a short moment, then reluctantly make way to out of the car. There was no point in fighting now.

The man smiles in triumph, then grabs me by the wrist, leading me to the building. It's very unwelcoming. There's a tall metal gate surrounding the premises with all the windows barred. Inescapable.

He opens the door leading me inside the building. The interior of the room is institutional white. He walks me down a long narrow hallway, and enters a small white room. It's empty except for a small dresser, a door on the other side of the room and chain pulley hanging from the the ceiling.

"Remove your clothes," he says, letting go of my arm.

"What?! No!" I gasp, appalled by his racy request.

He sighs in exasperation. "Just do what I say. I'm not going to hurt you." I stare at him, not sure if I should believe him. "Come on now, we don't have all day."

I shake my head definitely, I wasn't about to strip for this strange man. He grimaces, coming forward, backing me into the wall and starts removing my clothes himself. I struggle against him, but it's no use, he's too strong.

When he finally finishes removing every last article of clothing that I'm wearing, he takes me gingerly by the arm and leads me to the second door. Mortified, I follow him without any struggle, trying to cover myself to the best of my ability. He opens the door, gesturing for me to go inside.

I enter the room willingly, this room is also empty the walls are white, the floor is tiled, and there's a large drain in the center of the floor. He closes the door behind me, leaving me alone. I stand in the middle of the room, not quite sure of what was going on. A loud groan come from the ceiling, startling me. I look up to try to figure out where the noise came from, when a sudden burst of comes down out of the ceiling, like a shower. I scream in pain the water feels like acid when it touches my skin.

And as quickly as it began it stops, I stand in the middle of the room gasping from the sudden burst of pain. The door opens. "Here," the man throws me a small, ragged towel. "Dry off with this, then put these on," he says, placing a small box by the door. I dry off with the rag to the best of my ability, then put on my new -well, new to me- clothes. They are also ragged and have various holes. I've never worn anything so haggard in my life.

I look at the clothes distastefully, but quickly remember that my clothes are the very least of my problems. I exit the room to be greeted by the man again, "Are you done?" He asks, though he can clearly see that I am. I sigh and nod. He nods as well. Then takes me by the arm again and leads me out the hall to another room.

"Great another empty room," I mutter to myself.

He glances down at me but initially ignores me. "Sit," he says, pointing to the ground. I obey, sitting without another word pulling my legs up to my chest wrapping my arms around them. I watch as he stands there, his arms crossed. He seems to be ignoring me, but I couldn't care less. Nothing really matters now.

A short moment later, the door opens and another man enters the room. He's carrying a small, metal box. "Finally," the first man says. "It took you long enough. She's your problem now." He says with a sly smile as he leaves the room.

He sighs in exasperation, then looks at me. "Now you stay put. I'll be right back," he says exiting the room. But comes back a short moment later with a small stool. He sits down and opens the box he had brought earlier. He motions for me to come forward.

He tells me to sit down, then runs his large hands through my still damp hair and takes out a pair of scissors. I gasp, jumping back away from him, "No, what are you doing? You can't cut my hair!" I cry.

He sighs again. "I have to," he says. "There is a threat of a typhoid outbreak. And every patient needs to have their head shaved, no exceptions," he explains calmly. "Now come, so we can get it over with quickly."

I frown. Typhoid is a very serious illness, and is almost always fatal. I reluctantly sit back down in front of him and he begins to work. He takes the scissors and starts sniping away at my hair.

I watch as locks of my hair fall gently to the floor. And for every piece that fell, it was like a small part of me died.

It wasn't long before he finished cutting my hair. He puts the scissors back into the metal box and takes out a razor blade. He takes my head and presses it firmly against his knee. "Now, don't you move. I don't want to cut you," he says sternly.

Silent tears run down my cheeks as he shaves away the last bit of hair I had left. When he finishes, he releases me, pushing me away gently and brushing the excess hair off his clothes. I sit there, whimpering to myself.

"Quit your crying," he snaps. "It'll grow back. Now come on. We need to get you situated." He said, taking me by the wrist, leading me down the hall once again. I follow him, wiping my tears with my free hand, unsuccessfully trying to calm my self.

We come to a larger reception room. There's a woman in her mid-fifties, her brown hair is pulled back in a neat bun. She wears large thick glasses that just won't stay up on her long skinny nose. She smiles illegitimately as we approach, "You must be our new patient," I'm Margret. This is your medical bracelet," she says and puts the small metal bracelet around my left wrist, "Your to keep it on at all times, she instructs. It read Alice Brandon . 24601

"I'll show you to your room now." She says leading me to the back of the room, her hand resting gently on the smalls of my back, then the opens a large metal door.

It's darker here. Not bright like the other hall the men lead me down. There aren't any windows. Every cell door is made out of strong metal and it's deafeningly silent.

We walk down the seemingly endless hall till we come to an abrupt stop in front of one of the doors. "This will be your room. You have your own bathroom and everything," she says in fake excitement. "We're going to help you, you know. We'll get rid of those 'visions' for you." I don't answer, I just stare up at her in contempt. She sighs, and opens the door to the dark and dank room. "Well, in you go," she says, somewhat pushing me inside then closes the door behind me. The turnng of the locks sounds: enclosing me inside the cell. I breathe heavily as I finally meet my breaking point. My knees buckle underneath me, causing me to collapse to the hard stone floor as my chest becomes rack with sobs.

* * *

_**Author Notes:**_

_**Hey, it's me again. This chapter was really hard for me to write and I would like some feedback. Love it? Hate it? Anything you would change? I would love to hear what you think.**_

_**I would also like to thank Tinylildancer and .Jalice. Without you guys, this chapter might have went unfinished. And I give a special thank you to .Jalice. Your words keep me going strong when I was down. And I can't forget my wonderful beta, HeyHelloHowdy. 3 **_

_**Love always! R&R! Read On!**_

_**Jalice Love since1948**_

_**-JA :D**_


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